


Creatures Of Habit

by NeonViolet



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mutual Pining, Reverse Big Bang Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-17 20:08:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15469044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeonViolet/pseuds/NeonViolet
Summary: “Is this Isak Valtersen?”He clutches the phone closer to his ear.“Yeah, this is him.” He turns in the other direction, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation as he waits for the voice on the other line to get to their point.“I’m calling because you are listed as the emergency contact for Even Bech Næsheim—“





	1. 01:01

**Author's Note:**

> *****CHAPTERS WILL POST IN REAL TIME OVER THE COURSE OF 21 HOURS. SUBSCRIBE FOR UPDATES*****
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> ***If you need to know whether or not this has a happy ending or not, click [HERE](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/af/5a/04/af5a04b0bac41aada34f26d5b1562a50.jpg) I don't want it spoiled for those who enjoy reading all the way through without that knowledge.***
> 
> This story was inspired by two incredible pieces of art. The moment I saw/listened to both of them, I knew I wanted to use them together.
> 
> The drawing (see below) was done by the talented Martha. You can check out some of her other work on her [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/marthalucye/?hl=en)
> 
> And the beautiful playlist, which you can find [Here](https://open.spotify.com/user/chelseabergman7/playlist/1TX0BY5DBKlk4KyUVfc895?si=Iag2JujdSTmheRbiNt7ReA), was put together by [Chelsea](http://certifiedfilmhoe.tumblr.com/)
> 
> The playlist itself is soothing, and as there are no lyrics to the songs, it's quite easy to play while you read. How you utilize it is strictly up to you - but when writing this story it was more about the overall mood the music told and the journey it took from the first song to the last.
> 
> I will have a lot more to say in the final end notes of this story, (*cough* how much I love Skamsnake *cough*), but this is the most proud I have ever been of a piece of writing so I really hope it moves you in some way.

 

**_NOW: 01:01_ **

 

“Is this Isak Valtersen?”

 

He clutches the phone to his ear tighter as he walks away from the doors of the club he just exited, heading towards the street corner to get away from the chatter of people and the pulsing bass from the music inside.

 

“Yeah, this is him.” There’s the occasional flash of sirens peaking in between two buildings from a block away so he turns in the other direction, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation as he waits for the person on the other line to get to their point. This entire day has been nothing but shit and has only progressively gotten worse - ending with a forgettable evening in the bar. He just wants to go home, take a sleeping pill, and not deal with whatever the fuck this is right now. If being raised by his father has taught him anything, it’s that phone calls from unknown numbers in the middle of the night are never something to look forward to.

 

“I’m calling because you are listed as the emergency contact for Even Bech Næsheim—“

 

He stops his aimless walk around the street and feels a cold tremor climb up his spine as the voice on the phone continues speaking - Isak hearing words like _‘In surgery now’_  and _‘He was unconscious at the scene’_ muddled with Evens words from earlier _“I can’t do it any longer”_ and _“It just wasn’t enough”._

 

He fights back the panic rushing from his stomach and into his chest, and hangs up with a promise to arrive as soon as possible while he tries to calculate the fastest way to get back into Oslo, finally making a decision and dialing a phone number with trembling hands.

 

He doesn’t bother with greetings when the call is picked up.

 

“Hey, I need you to come get me. Something's happened to Even.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the shortest chapter. 
> 
> Don’t kill me. 
> 
>  
> 
> **Tumblr:**   
>  [NeonViolet](https://Pinkskam.tumblr.com/)


	2. 08:07 - Dette Er Even

**_NOW: 8:07_ **

 

“Do you want any water? Anything to eat?”

 

Isak shakes his head at the nurse, avoiding her sad pitying eyes as she finishes with her notes and takes Even’s vitals.

 

No change.

 

There hasn’t been a change in seven hours.  

 

Seven hours of Even lying on this bed, wires pouring out of him in an intricate maze, leading to machines covered in buttons, lights, and muted noises.

 

Seven hours of Isak looking at the skin exposed from his gown and blanket, dried blood caked on around scratches, bruises blue and red - still fresh and warm, face tight and tense, like even in his unconscious state he’s unable to relax.

 

Seven hours of _What’s going on?! Is he in pain?! Is he hurting?! When will he wake up? What medication are you giving him? Why aren’t you doing anything more? No, I’m not okay! I’m not moving!_

 

Seven hours since he’s thought of sleeping or eating. Seven hours since the doctor explained that the next 24 hours would tell them what they need to know.

 

Seven hours since Isak had taken Even’s hand in his own and not let go.

 

Seven hours.

 

He lets his forehead fall onto his outstretched forearm - the one grasping Even’s limp cold hand - and takes in a deep shuddering breath.

 

“Please don’t go.” He whispers the words wetly into the mattress, hot tears falling recklessly down his face and onto the sheet.

 

“Please stay.” A pause as he grips at Even’s fingers. “I’m sorry for everything. I love you.” His face is soaked, lips covered in tears and spit as the sobs jerk out of his body. He sits up in a sudden jolt of earnestness and need, dragging his chair closer to the bed and leaning in until his lips are barely brushing over Even’s cheek.

 

“Did you hear me? I said I love you.” He nudges at his face with his nose. “Baby, I’m so sorry...so sorry. I love you. I do.” He presses a kiss to the skin below Even’s eye, squeezing his own shut and succumbing to the tremors jolting through him.

 

“I lied before - all I want is you. I can’t-I can’t live without you Even.” He places another kiss, one hand still holding Even’s and the other coming to his face, cupping his jaw and stroking thoughtfully.

 

“Ple...please come back baby. Come back to me. Just-” He wipes at his face. “-me and you.” He looks at Even, face still serious, damp with Isak’s tears. He leans in, wet lips meeting cool dry ones. He presses his face to his, lingering in the touch for just a moment, mouth grazing Even’s as he speaks. “Just me and you. I promise. Please don’t go.”

 

 

 

 

> **_THEN_ **
> 
>  
> 
> _Isak lets his head fall back against the cool bathroom wall behind him with a soft thud, vibrations reverberating through his body from the beat of the bass pulsating through speakers inside the club. The scratchy sound of a zipper being pulled up precedes the sight of the man kneeling in front of him - now standing - wiping a small trace of come from his crooked upturned mouth as he looks at Isak._
> 
>  
> 
> _“See ya next week, love?”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Isak closes his eyes, making a noncommittal noise instead of agreeing. It’s a joke really, he will be back. He always comes back. And he should recognize some of these faces by now, but mostly he doesn’t give a shit about trying to remember the Mathias’s from the Erik’s - as long as the mouths are warm and wet, the asses tight and ready, and the bodies hard._
> 
>  
> 
> _He hears the click as the guy exits the stall and bathroom entirely, and then reaches into his pants, rearranging himself before heading to the sink to clean his hands and rinse out his mouth._
> 
>  
> 
> _He lifts his head up and looks in the mirror, a grim reflection staring back. Dark circles framing dull eyes with an equally dead expression._
> 
>  
> 
> _Normally he’d go back out.  Have a few more drinks, flirt with a few more men, gain a few more hours worth of attention, make his way to the bathroom stalls a few more times, but tonight he’s tired. Even he can see that it’s time to call it a night - and that’s saying something when most of what he does to himself could be described as mental masochism._
> 
>  
> 
> _“One and done tonight Valtersen.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _He exits the club from the rear, enjoying the added anonymity that it brings. It’s a pointless facade since no one here knows him - the whole purpose of leaving the city on weekends to enjoy the gay club scene elsewhere - but he tells himself it’s necessary and does it anyway._
> 
>  
> 
> _He’s a creature of habit._
> 
>  
> 
> _His eyes scan the street and stop on a familiar black vehicle one block away, parked on the curb with the headlights turned off._
> 
>  
> 
> _Fucking, Even._
> 
>  
> 
> _He shoves his hands into his jeans pockets, steps becoming more brisk as he makes his way to the car - pausing in front of the passenger door waiting for it to be unlocked before settling into the leather seats inside._
> 
>  
> 
> _No one says anything, just the sound of Isak clicking in his seatbelt, the whir of the vents blowing heat through the space, and Even’s even breaths as they drive out of the area and onto the highway towards home._
> 
>  
> 
> _He leans his face against the glass, watching as the orange hued lights from the road pass over him in a rhythmic flash. Ten minutes goes by and no one has said anything, so he speaks first._
> 
>  
> 
> _“You don’t have anything to say?” The window fogs up with the breath that escapes his mouth._
> 
>  
> 
> _Beside him he can hear the slow muted whoosh as Even turns his head to look at Isak before facing the road again._
> 
>  
> 
> _“It’s still early. Do you feel okay?”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Concern. It’s always concern. He never gets mad or loses his cool - even if Isak deserves it._
> 
>  
> 
> _“If it’s so early then why were you outside when I left?” He avoids Even’s question with one of his own._
> 
>  
> 
> _Typical. Creature of habit._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Isak.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“Yeah, I know.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Because he does know. It doesn’t matter what time it is or what everyone else is doing - Even has always and will always be parked outside of Violet Lights every weekend that Isak is there. It used to insult him, made him feel inferior - like this was all one condescending action being thrown at Isak. As if he couldn’t take care of himself. As if he was insulting Isak’s intelligence and personal abilities._
> 
>  
> 
> _But then there had been the night he’d been drugged because he hadn’t yet learned to watch his drinks being made when someone else buys them for you, and had Even not been parked outside - it could have looked a lot differently for Isak._
> 
>  
> 
> _So yeah, his behavior was reckless. But instead of changing it, he embraces it.  And if Even wanted to play babysitter - so be it._
> 
>  
> 
> _They get home, taking the stairs to their apartment slowly and silently. Walking in through the front door, house dark except for the light over the stove, he walks to his room, discarding articles of clothing as he makes his way to his bed._
> 
>  
> 
> _Even follows him in a few minutes later, placing a glass of water and two pain killers on the bedside table - just like he does every weekend._
> 
>  
> 
> _Isak isn’t drunk tonight, so he won’t be hungover tomorrow - but he appreciates the gesture and doesn’t say anything when a few moments later Even comes back in with a small plastic bin, setting it next to the bed in case he needs to be sick in the middle of the night._
> 
>  
> 
> _This is their routine, their dance every weekend. This is what they’ve done since that first night Even found him out. The night Isak stupidly walked into a bar too close to home and too intoxicated to remember why he was so trashed to begin with. The night he shoved his tongue into some mans mouth - foul from tobacco, liquor, and spunk - and let him shove his hand down his pants in front of a small crowd of clubgoers, even though he gave half hearted pleas for him to stop._
> 
>  
> 
> _The night he stumbled onto a crowded street, a few bruises forming around random points on his skin, and walked right into his best friend._
> 
>  
> 
> _Even._
> 
>  
> 
> _Even, who took him home, forgetting about or disregarding whatever his current plans had been and made sure Isak was safe. Cleaning him up after he’d been sick. Making him drink water and waking him up every couple of hours._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Just to be sure.” he had said._
> 
>  
> 
> _The next afternoon, after Isak had woken up with the hangover from hell and bits of his memory returning to him, he rushed out of his room cornering Even in the hall. Terrified expression on his face, hands trembling by his side and breaths pouring out in a panic._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Don’t say anything. Please.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“I won’t.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“I’m fine.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“Okay.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _And that had been that. Isak remained a deep closet case._
> 
>  
> 
> _A few weeks later, he went back out, but was smart enough to go outside of town this time, the beginning of his visits to The Violet District - the area home to Violet Lights and a plethora of other venues dedicated to the queer demographic in southern Norway. But getting home late that night and having to face Even’s questions laced with distress was the catalyst for the arrangement they have now. And honestly, he couldn’t handle someone else’s anxieties at that moment, especially if the source of pain was coming from Even._
> 
>  
> 
> _So he agreed to share his location, thank God for smartphones and GPS tracking. Eventually though, Even just showed up at the club. Parked outside and sat waiting for Isak._
> 
>  
> 
> _Every weekend._
> 
>  
> 
> _Creatures of habit._

 

 

**_NOW_ **

A loud shrieking noise breaks through, pulling him out of his trance, sitting up in his startled state. Another machine beeps and then there are bodies filling the room, white coats everywhere, talking over each other and setting themselves into practiced, yet rushed, action.

 

A set of arms pulls him up, stunning Isak as they set him aside, breaking his hold on Even.

 

He can’t speak. He wants to yell, ask them what they’re doing, ask them what’s going on. But he can’t take his eyes off of the man he loves. So he stares. Standing still.

 

He feels his muscles lock into place as he remains in a corner, listening to the shouts of a doctor as he reads machines and presses his hands onto Even’s chest, even compressions over and over.

 

He feels the loss of blood as it seems to rush from his extremities and the doctor’s face turns from concentrated to concerned.

 

Worried. Too worried.

 

He feels his chest heave as he gasps for breath when the sound of a constant beep, the shrill tone of the heart monitor rings out into the room - incessant in it’s actions with no regard for those listening.

 

And somewhere he hears the sound of his own screams as they wheel Even out of the room.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Tumblr:**   
>  [NeonViolet](https://Pinkskam.tumblr.com/)


	3. 12:17 - Passe På Meg

**_NOW: 12:17_ **

 

He nods his head, and somewhere in the back of his mind he tells himself to blink. _Is that normal? Does he normally have to remind himself to blink?_

 

The nurse in front of him is still speaking, crouching down to make eye contact. He hears most of what’s she’s saying.

 

_“A lot of internal bleeding.”_

 

_“Body is crashing”_

 

_“Trying to see the extent of his injuries.”_

 

_“You should call his family. Prepare them.”_

 

Isak looks up then, focusing in on her face now. It’s round, and her eyes are a warm brown. There’s a crease in between her brows from the worry she is carrying there, but he can tell that she has a friendly face.

 

“He doesn’t have any family, they--” He stops himself when he realizes what he was going to say. When the irony of the entire situation hits him like a sledgehammer to the chest. His nodding is more frantic now, like he’s trying to tell his body to calm down, gulping for air and gripping the armrests to the chair he is sitting in.

 

She’s nodding with him now too, warm hands over his as she repeats a chant of _‘In and out. Deep breaths.’_

 

He feels his body start to rest, only slightly, but it’s enough. She stays put for a few seconds longer before she stands up, retreating with a promise to update him as soon as she knows more.

 

“He has no family.” The words are said out loud, but it’s late and they brought him to a private waiting room, so he’s alone. No one to hear him as he says it again. “He has no family.”

 

There are no overhead lights in the room, just a few small lamps softly lighting the space. No outrageous patterns on the floor or sofas, all soothing greys and neutrals. There’s a faint ambient sound coming from a fake plant. A speaker buried in its pot, streaming out calm white noise barely audible above the ventilation system.

 

There’s box of tissues on every table.

 

It’s a private waiting room. It’s quiet and peaceful. There isn’t anything in here that could agitate - because this is where people are brought to receive bad news.

 

He repeats himself. “He has no family.”

 

A breath. A beat.  

 

“I was his only family.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **_THEN_ **
> 
>  
> 
> _Isak wakes up groggy and heavy limbed the next morning, but drags himself out of his bed and into the bathroom. Even is already in there, brushing his teeth and following Isak with his eyes through the reflection in the mirror. Isak ignores him, lifting the toilet seat up and relieving himself before standing at the sink next to Even and washing his hands._
> 
>  
> 
> _Even has moved onto doing his hair, so Isak hops on the counter, facing his roommate with poorly concealed disgust, watching as he runs his fingers through the strands, shaping and pulling it this way and that while he styles._
> 
>  
> 
> _“If it bothers you so much, why do you continue to watch me do my hair every morning?”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“It’s like a train wreck. I can’t look away.” Isak reaches out to try and pull a strand, but Even is faster, slapping his hand away, eyes never leaving his own reflection._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Don’t touch.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Isak mouths the words back to him in childish mockery._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Why are you up so early? Shouldn’t you still be in bed complaining about a headache, or ya know - complaining in general?”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Ah yes, a not so subtle reminder of what he had been up to the evening before._
> 
>  
> 
> _“I’m going to the library to get some studying done. Exams and all that.” He swings his legs against the vanity doors, reaching over and intentionally knocking the jar of hair product into the sink to annoy Even._
> 
>  
> 
> _“And this is why I don't need a cat. I have an Isak.” He picks up the jar, maintaining eye contact with Isak as he slowly but firmly sets it back on the other side of the counter - out of his reach._
> 
>  
> 
> _He finishes his styling, wiping his hands on his pants before grabbing Isak’s arm, tugging him off the counter. “Let me look at you.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Isak rolls his eyes, head lolling along with them as he groans. “I’m fine Even.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“Isak.” His tone is final. Not harsh, but there isn’t any room for argument either._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Fine.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _He stands in front of him as Even lifts his hands to his jaw, softly turning his head one way and then the other as his eyes study over every centimeter of skin, their caress as tangible and warm as that of his hands. His fingers make a trail over his neck and then over to the back of it, just below his head, eyes following the path as he continues his search over Isak’s body for blemishes. Looking for tears and bruises - any signs that he’s allowed someone to be too rough with him - and checking to see that some of the older marks are healing well._
> 
>  
> 
> _And this was something else they did, because while Isak continues to excel academically, is able to maintain a small part time job and handle his finances responsibly, exercises regularly and eats fairly healthily - this was the one area of his life where he doesn’t take care of himself._
> 
>  
> 
> _So he lets Even do it for him._
> 
>  
> 
> _There’s a moment where something squeezes in Isak’s chest - a reminder that Even’s natural and instinctual need to take care of Isak comes from a place birthed when both of his own parents died. Growing up fast and without parents is something both men understand intrinsically, even if on separate planes of existence. And while Isak benefits from the care and concern Even showers him in, he takes a moment to wonder who does this for Even, and what does he gain from it all._
> 
>  
> 
> _He knows he could have told Even that he had nothing to worry about as far as last night was concerned. That he’d only had one beer before heading to the bathroom for a blowjob that he didn’t reciprocate. Even would have believed him, because no matter how fucked up this part of Isak’s life is - he never lies to Even. So he could have said something to reassure him that this was unnecessary this morning. But the other fucked up side to this already dark story is that he likes it. He enjoys the attention that comes with this part of Even’s care._
> 
>  
> 
> _He leans forward, forehead resting on Even’s shoulder, eyes falling shut - a practiced facade of grumpy fatigue - while Even lifts up the back of his t-shirt, holding it up with one hand while the other runs over his back. A gentle brush down his spine - somewhere between a soft fondle and an embrace - while slipping from one hip to the other, dipping the waistband of his briefs low enough to see the yellowing fingerprints from a few weekends ago - a parting gift from a particularly brutish man who got off on Isak’s quiet hisses of pain while he pressed him against a wall._
> 
>  
> 
> _Even glides his palm over the fading marks, touches his own fingers to the bruise, matching each one print for print as he rubs a soft circle over them. It’s ritualistic and reverent - like he’s healing the infliction, almost willing it to disappear with his touch and his affection alone._
> 
>  
> 
> _Isak shivers from the physical and emotional sensation - and he thinks that maybe Even’s touch could heal his wounds._
> 
>  
> 
> _Even’s hand stutters - it’s slight and quick before it stills again and he exhales deeply, letting the fabric of Isak’s shirt cascade back down against him but keeps his hands resting on his hips, spread out over the small of his back._
> 
>  
> 
> _“You’re ok.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“I’m ok.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Whispers.  Always whispers._
> 
>  
> 
> _Creatures of habit._
> 
>  
> 
> _Even’s chin lands softly on the top of Isak’s hair, he hums before he sighs. “I don’t like it when you’re hurt.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _And there it is - Isak’s cue._
> 
>  
> 
> _Because it’s one thing to bask in the physical affection from one of his closest friends. The only person in the world to understand what being touch starved really means - and to experience it himself. The man who knows how deeply rooted Isak’s fears are and doesn’t make him feel invalidated. All of those things blend into each other and are easy to accept and compartmentalize if he needs to._
> 
>  
> 
> _But it’s another thing to know that when he hurts himself he is somehow hurting Even as well. Because that means trying to put a name to thoughts and feelings he wants to avoid - needs to avoid. It means articulating himself and opening up old wounds that have long ago scarred over. It means opening himself up to things he can’t control, and the inability to maneuver areas of his life meticulously is something he can’t allow. Control in his life is something he has spent years curating and he isn’t about to relinquish that and allow chaos back in._
> 
>  
> 
> _So he pushes himself away from Even, feels the trickle of goosebumps on his skin as Even’s hands drag away from his back, and spins on his heel towards the sink._
> 
>  
> 
> _He looks up to see Even still behind him, watching in the mirror as Isak brushes his teeth. He stares back, reaching over where he knows the jar of hair product is, and deliberately and quickly pushes it onto the floor._
> 
>  
> 
> _Even shakes his head, turning around to exit the bathroom._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Loser.” he mutters under his breath._
> 
>  
> 
> _Isak quickly spits into the sink.  “You said Legend wrong!”_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Tumblr:**   
>  [NeonViolet](https://Pinkskam.tumblr.com/)


	4. 15:15 - Bånder

**_NOW: 15:15_ **

 

A paper bag is dropped onto his lap, and he looks up to find Jonas’s worried and tired gaze meeting his before taking the seat next to him.

 

“You need to eat.”

 

He’s right, he hasn’t eaten since his last breakfast with Even. But he isn’t hungry. Can’t find the desire to eat, and he doesn’t really remember thinking about it until just now. He places the bag on the table next to him, leaning forward on his knees, head hanging between his shoulders and forces himself to take deep breaths. The only thing he’s been able to do that staves off the cries for a while.

 

Another bag is tossed at him, landing softly at his feet.

 

“Go change.”

 

He looks at the small duffle bag and he thinks maybe that isn’t a terrible idea. He thinks that maybe if he tries hard enough he can get his limbs to stand up and make their way to the small bathroom a few feet away. And if he makes it to the bathroom, then it shouldn’t be too hard to lift his arms and put on a fresh shirt. And if he can do all of that then he might be able to distract himself for a little while. Might be able to spend even a few seconds not thinking about the state that Even is in - too focused on trying to complete a menial task.

 

So he does. He lifts himself up, bringing the bag with him and makes it to the attached bathroom - regretting it immediately.  

 

He smells him as soon as he unzips the main pocket and it overwhelms him the same way Even overwhelmed his life from the first moment they had met.

 

It’s crisp; the scent of fresh cotton from the expensive laundry detergent he insists on buying. It’s sweet; the smell of the gummy bears he’s addicted to and leaves in half eaten bags all over the apartment. It’s spicy; faint hints of patchouli and cloves from the hair product Isak pretends to despise. It’s musky; his sweat.

 

It’s Even.

 

Isak strips himself of his clothes, and pulls on the shirt and joggers sitting in the bottom of the bag. Because the thought of not being wrapped up in Even in any way he can be isn’t an option. So he moves like a man gone mad and he wrestles his body into the clothing, and as he takes a deep calming breath, Even assaults his senses all at once and he collapses with the weight of everything.

 

He sinks to the floor, arms wrapping around his knees, when he remembers why he’s here. When he recalls the lifeless look on Even’s face after the first surgery. A surgery too short to mean anything good. He drags his lip between his teeth, clamping down hard and trying to remember what it means when they close a body up mid procedure to _“Wait and see how his body responds.”_ He trembles, rocking himself back and forth as he recalls Jonas’s face as he recited to him what had been said by the doctors

 

_“He’s hurt.”_

 

_“Not responding.”_

 

_“Emergency operation.”_

 

Jonas, who is now in front of him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders, trembling too.

 

Jonas, who Isak had called the moment he got off the phone with the hospital, who picked him up at _The Violet District_ and didn’t ask any questions. Who knew Even first; loved him first. Who introduced Even to Isak when they were 13 years old and never got jealous when they bonded so quickly, understanding that there is a club for kids whose parents have died and Jonas wasn’t apart of that.

 

Because it was always Even, but it was also always Jonas.

 

So they sit on the floor of a bathroom in a hospital, clinging to each other and crying. Silent pleas of _‘Please be alright.’_ and _‘Don’t die.’_ never leaving their mouths, but being said anyway.

 

 

 

 

 

> **_THEN_ **
> 
>  
> 
> _Everything is perfect. Exams are complete and he’s passed with flying colors. He’s managed to snag a full time job at the hospital for the summer, (well Even had gotten him the job. Isak simply reaping the benefits of having his best friend two years ahead of him in the med program). The weather is comfortably warm and flying under the radar among his group of friends just became a lot easier, as the majority of them are all on holiday elsewhere. And that definitely makes it easier to play the ‘Straight Card’._
> 
>  
> 
> _Everything is perfect._
> 
>  
> 
> _Was._
> 
>  
> 
> _He shouldn’t have checked the mail. He should have let it all go unnoticed for a few months and hoped for the best._
> 
>  
> 
> _But he didn’t and couldn’t, because a lifetime of parenting yourself meant being instilled with an enormous sense of responsibility. Which is why when he moved out he had most of his dad’s bills forwarded to his address. Which is why he had set up a scheduled transfer into his dad’s bank account from his own for the first of each month. And this is also why he is currently reading a threat of eviction notice._
> 
>  
> 
> _Because his father missed two months of rent. And if he wasn’t spending the money Isak sent to him on bills, then he was spending it on booze._
> 
>  
> 
> _He crumples the letter up in anger and frustration, banging the side of his fist on the kitchen counter before relaxing himself long enough to open it back up and smooth it out. Methodical, composed - controlled._
> 
>  
> 
> _Even walks in, hands in his pockets and lips pursed out in thought._
> 
>  
> 
> _“First of the month?”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“First of the month.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _He reaches across the counter and grabs his keys._
> 
>  
> 
> _“I’ll drive you.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _And because he is the only person Isak will allow to see this part of his life, to really know it, he just nods. Both of them silently putting on their shoes and walking out the door._
> 
>  
> 
> _-_
> 
>  
> 
> _He walks over the threshold, both men making their way through the front hall, and immediately sucks in a breath of rancid air._
> 
>  
> 
> _The entire apartment is in disarray - trash bin overflowing and dishes covering every inch of space on the counters. Empty bottles littering the living room, broken glass spread out in front of the tv, and his father passed out at the small dining room table._
> 
>  
> 
> _He lost his job again. Isak doesn’t need to ask, he just knows. His drinking has always been a problem - but it only gets out of hand like this when he’s been fired. And he’s always fired because he arrives to work drunk. It was a vicious cycle, and it’d been going on for as long as Isak could remember._
> 
>  
> 
> _They both set to work cleaning. Bagging up the trash and taking it outside, washing dishes and emptying rotten food from the fridge. He sweeps up the glass and places the bottles in recycling, strips the sheets from the bed and starts the laundry._
> 
>  
> 
> _Even is cleaning the bathroom while Isak sits at the table and sorts through mail and documents, his father beginning to stir and come to._
> 
>  
> 
> _Isak looks up at him long enough to push a glass of water forward, and sets back to his task of paperwork._
> 
>  
> 
> _“What the fuck are you doing here?”_
> 
>  
> 
> _He ignores him. This is always his standard behavior whenever this happens. When he wakes up and remembers what a piece of shit he is and sees his son taking care of him regardless._
> 
>  
> 
> _He hears the sound of gulps as he drinks the water, and then “I said, what the fuck are you doing here.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _It’s more venomous now and something pinches inside Isak at the tone. But he takes a calming breath, he isn’t in the mood today. He doesn’t want to lose his temper, doesn’t want to lose control of his actions. He takes the wrinkled letter threatening his father’s eviction and wordlessly slides it over the table to him._
> 
>  
> 
> _His father picks it up, scans over the body of the message before slamming it on the table with his hands._
> 
>  
> 
> _“This is because of those fags next door!”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Isak winces at the words and the volume._
> 
>  
> 
> _“They’ve been knocking on my door, talking about keeping the noise down! What fucking noise?! I live alone, goddammit!”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Isak is sure he understands exactly what they mean. His dad is angry when he’s sober, but when he is drunk he’s downright belligerent. He’ll go off on loud tirades, speaking to no one, every now and then resorting to throwing anything within reach._
> 
>  
> 
> _His father slams another hand against the table, shoving his chair back and knocking it down with the force._
> 
>  
> 
> _“You can tell those sons of bitches to mind their own goddamn business!” His dad stalks over to the kitchen, and he hears the clinking of glass as he rummages through the cupboard for another bottle._
> 
>  
> 
> _Even is next to him pushing the papers away._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Let’s go Isak.” Finality in his tone, always._
> 
>  
> 
> _He stands up, knowing there is no use arguing with his father when he’s like this and there is no use arguing with Even either, not when it comes to taking care of him._
> 
>  
> 
> _He stops at the doorway of the kitchen for a moment, staring as his father continues his actions to begin another binge. He forces the volume of his voice to raise as much above a whisper as he can manage. “There’s a load of clean clothes in the dryer dad. And I put some cash in your wallet for groceries.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _His father doesn’t hear him, or he doesn’t pay him any attention, just continues his angry monologue full of offensive slurs, keeping his back to Isak as he drinks the brown liquor straight from the bottle._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Bye dad.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _-_
> 
>  
> 
> _“Don’t go tonight.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“Give it a rest Even. I’m fine.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“You’re a fucking liar. I was with you today - I know you’re not fine.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _He throws his shirt to the side, pausing his current rummage through his closet to address his roommate._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Jesus Christ, Even. Not every decision I make that you hate is because of my daddy issues. I feel like going out, what’s the big fucking deal?”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“The big deal is that this is absolutely because of your daddy issues. This is because your father is an ignorant bigot and now you feel the need to allow someone to hurt you - to hurt the part of you that you hate because of_ his _words!” He pushes off the doorframe and steps into Isak’s space, breath fanning over his face as he speaks, more softly this time, but just as ardently._
> 
>  
> 
> _“He’s the disgusting one, Isak. Not you.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _He looks up at Even, his eyes wide and imploring and shining with a hint of moisture. He feels fingers align with his. “Please don’t go.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _The air is charged, thick with emotion. It’s hard to breathe._
> 
>  
> 
> _He pulls his hand back._
> 
>  
> 
> _“It’s not that serious Even.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _He watches his features fall, expression crushed before setting into something hard._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Fine. But I’m taking you.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _-_
> 
>  
> 
> _He’s one shot and two beers in, and this is his happy place. A gentle buzz that takes off the edge, making everything just a little softer - but alert enough to still feel in control._
> 
>  
> 
> _He loves control._
> 
>  
> 
> _He notices a few of the regulars, but no one is approaching him, and he knows that has everything to do with the tall blonde dressed in black from head to toe leaning against the bar a few feet away. One bottle of beer in hand, paired with an intense stare at anyone who entertains the idea of approaching isak._
> 
>  
> 
> _It’s too much and he’s tired of it. Tired and a little horny, craving the feel of skin on skin. Of another body pressed up against his._
> 
>  
> 
> _He chugs down the rest of his beer, leaving Even to brood at the bar and makes his way to the dance floor - burying himself in the sea of bodies and dropping his head back, swaying to the beat pulsing around him. He feels a hand on his hip and he pushes back, happy and loose as blue lights stream over him - the only illumination in the dark club._
> 
>  
> 
> _He glances across the room and sees Even’s darkened eyes steady and trained on him. Features set hard and motionless in statuesque imitation - only the slight quiver of his jaw a give away of his otherwise immovable expression._
> 
>  
> 
> _So Isak relaxes as the alcohol courses through his veins, pushing away his inhibitions and letting himself feel. He lifts a hand back over his shoulder, grabbing the neck of the person behind him, pressing back harder and more slowly as he dances along with the deep beat of the music._
> 
>  
> 
> _In front of him, Even has turned to lean back against the bar, elbows behind him and chin tilted down. His whole body tight with tension as he continues his steady viewing of Isak._
> 
>  
> 
> _Head thrown back in abandon, Isak closes his eyes, letting himself move in ways that he knows are pleasurable to look at - pleasurable to experience. The body behind him pushes back into him, and he feels the bulge in their pants, so he rocks his hips from side to side and in small circles - a slow and sensual rhythm. Lights flashing, music pounding, the smell of sweat._
> 
>  
> 
> _The body disappears, but he keeps on dancing._
> 
>  
> 
> _He keeps dancing even when minutes later new hands replace the previous ones. When he feels a chest against his back and a mouth breathing against his ear. Even when the smell of sweat mingles with the scent of patchouli and cloves and he turns around to look into blueglass eyes, dark with lust and skin colored with fear._
> 
>  
> 
> _Hands grip him harder, closer._
> 
>  
> 
> _“What are you doing?”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“I don’t know.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _A heady feeling clouds everything and he pushes through, ready to take whatever is being offered._
> 
>  
> 
> _Isak’s hands trail up, tracing biceps and gripping before pulling them in._
> 
>  
> 
> _Lips touch lips, open and wet as tongues dance in and out messily and with no grace. Hands grab onto hips, arms wrap around a neck, pulling closer - always closer. Bodies push and shove and they move, attached in every way until they are against a wall._
> 
>  
> 
> _A knee between his legs and he grinds down, moan escaping with the feeling of release from the friction. Even’s chest is heaving, his eyes boring into Isak’s as he reaches around to grab at his ass, squeezing ruthlessly while he pushes his knee further up, mouth hanging open and eyes glazed over - growling when Isaks bottom lip drops and lets himself hump against his thigh over and over, panting against each others mouths._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Don’t stop.” It was a beg, a plea. Voice needy and breathless._
> 
>  
> 
> _“I’m not.” Even pushes up again, mouth colliding with Isak’s, wet heat and desperation._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Even.” He says his name because he needs something to say. Needs to articulate something but can only say, ‘Even.’_
> 
>  
> 
> _He says it again, breath hitching and voice going up as the their movements become quicker, losing their rhythm as they seek after their pleasure - him chasing his own release and Even watching as he does. His eyes are half lidded, and somewhere in the back of his mind he’s grateful for the cover of darkness in this corner, because nothing would be able to make him stop riding out this feeling._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Even.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“Isak.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Whispers. Always whispers._
> 
>  
> 
> _He cries out as he comes, his orgasm ripped from his body and his voice is drowned out by music and swallowed by another kiss from Even. His body stiffens, riding out the pleasure for a few moments longer, and then relaxes as Even brings a hand to his jaw, thumb stroking across his cheek with intent, eyes focusing on his mouth, the wetness of his lips._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Even?” A kiss, soft and sweet._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Yeah?” Another - a little sweeter, a little dirtier._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Take me home.”_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Tumblr:**   
>  [NeonViolet](https://Pinkskam.tumblr.com/)


	5. 18:26 - Minutt For Minutt

 

 

 

> **_THEN_ **
> 
>  
> 
> _He closes his eyes and hums as he takes a sip from his first cup of coffee of the day. First, but definitely not his last. He doesn’t think about how late in the afternoon it is as he swallows the steaming liquid. He just needs something to bring some focus back into his mind. Some clarity. Something that will allow him to center some of his attention on anything other than last night._
> 
>  
> 
> _He takes a bigger swallow, ignoring the burn down his throat and in his mouth - welcoming it with a wince - and pours himself another mug full, topping off what he’s already consumed._
> 
>  
> 
> _It doesn’t work. He remembers everything. Walking out of the club, using the back entrance and heading to Even’s car - with Even. The same silent drive, same orange hued street lamps flashing over his face, same city skyline as they approached closer to home on the highway. Same slow and clumsy climb up the stairs to their apartment._
> 
>  
> 
> _But it was different still. The silent car ride was buzzing and filled with unspoken questions and equal amounts unspoken answers. The street lamps were a little dull and the skyline a little hazy from the intoxication that had settled within each of them. Some of it from alcohol; most of it from lust. The clumsy climb up the stairs was slow, but deliberately so, too much uncertainty awaiting for either of them to rush to the door._
> 
>  
> 
> _But they did eventually. They crossed the threshold and Isak walked to his room, anxious to get out of the mess in his jeans, and he heard Even tread more slowly behind him. He pulled his shirt off, turning around to find Even standing in the doorway, face distressed but otherwise unreadable. And with a quick, “I’m gonna call it a night.” he was gone and Isak was left alone._
> 
>  
> 
> _He downs the last of the coffee and makes himself fill a cup with water, knowing he needs the hydration, needs some semblance that he is trying to take care of himself in some capacity. Even wont be around forever and it isn’t good enough for him to be responsible in most areas of his life but actively irresponsible in others._
> 
>  
> 
> _And why won’t Even be around forever? Because Isak fucked that up real quick. He allowed the most secret part of his life to overflow and bleed into the most treasured - all for a dirty orgasm in a dirty club. For a second of fleeting pleasure._
> 
>  
> 
> _He knew better; don’t shit where you eat. The cleanup is messy and irrevocable. And now he has to live with that. Literally._
> 
>  
> 
> _His mess is in the other room, hasn’t emerged once even though Isak knows he’s awake. Because even Even, level headed and always ready with the answers, needed more time to figure out how to navigate this situation. How to tell his best friend that he fucked up and it was a drunken mistake._
> 
>  
> 
> _Maybe not entirely drunk, but definitely an uninhibited mistake. And one Even so obviously regrets, considering how he fled as soon as he had the opportunity._
> 
>  
> 
> _So it should be on Isak to fix. He should be the one to take that burden away from Even, and he would if the man in question would just get his ass out of his room._
> 
>  
> 
> _Isak sets his cup on the counter, and purposefully makes his way to Evens bedroom door, knocking on it three times._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Even, let me in.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _There’s movement, the faint sound of an exhale, and the handle twists as the door swings open, Even turning back around to sit on his bed._
> 
>  
> 
> _He looks up at Isak, waiting and gesturing slightly to the space next to him. Isak walks in slowly - feeling the discomfort of everything begin to seep in - and gingerly he sits down._
> 
>  
> 
> _The mattress dips with his weight and his body comes into contact with Even’s - shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh._
> 
>  
> 
> _It’s one of the most common positions for him to be - one of the most comfortable, even - but currently it feels hot. Not a pleasant warmth but a warning heat - like he might get burned._
> 
>  
> 
> _But Isak stays anyway, because moving away could be offensive. Because he usually remains in situations that could be painful, it’s almost a game he plays with himself. How much pain can I endure in this moment?_
> 
>  
> 
> _And also, because he wants to._
> 
>  
> 
> _He turns his head, Even is staring down, face guarded. Isak can always tell with him, because he never lives that way. Even is always open with who he is. He’s open about his traumas and his fears. He’s open about his sexuality and the fluidity of it. He gives love and friendship freely and the general concept of closing yourself off in the name of self preservation isn’t something he’s too familiar with._
> 
>  
> 
> _Or, prefers not to put into practice at least._
> 
>  
> 
> _So his expression is guarded and it’s as clear as anything, that he wants - needs - this to be over with already. So Isak speaks._
> 
>  
> 
> _“About last night--” he shakes his head, admonishing himself, “I’m sorry.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“Why?”_
> 
>  
> 
> _And that isn’t the response he had anticipated. Neither is the open and curious expression now painting Even’s face, more collected and inviting._
> 
>  
> 
> _“What do you mean why? You went to bed. I just figured when you left that you--”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“I didn’t want to take advantage of the situation.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Take advantage? In what world would he be the one using Isak?_
> 
>  
> 
> _“That’s not what was happening.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Even doesn’t seem convinced, but he looks like he wants to be, so Isak continues._
> 
>  
> 
> _“It’s not.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“Promise?”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“Promise.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Whispers. Always whispers._
> 
>  
> 
> _And it’s the truth. It’s not just flowery words in order to make his friend - his sweet and tender friend - feel better. It felt good. It had been satisfying and debauched and Isak wanted it. He had wanted all of it. He knew what he was doing. He had put on a show, hadn’t he?_
> 
>  
> 
> _So no, Even had not been taking advantage of him._
> 
>  
> 
> _Isak had been a very willing participant._
> 
>  
> 
> _He takes a moment, grateful that the air is cleared of any misunderstandings but painfully aware that it is also buzzing and charged. It becomes more apparent still when he stands up to leave, a casual “Alright, so yeah—“ barely escaping his lips before Even reaches out and grabs at his wrist, tugging gently but with intent until Isak sits back on the mattress. This time closer - with more of Even touching him_
> 
>  
> 
> _And it’s not enough to satisfy - he still wants the weight of Even against him, and he can feel it as they lean further into each other. Their faces tilted to the side, temples almost touching. He watches as Even’s gaze flickers from his mouth to his eyes, shifting back and forth._
> 
>  
> 
> _He gently presses forward, pushing his face to Isak’s, eyes coming in and out of focus with the proximity._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Isak,” He feels the moisture of Even’s breath ghosting over his mouth as he speaks - slow but intentional “I’m not sorry about last night.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _There’s a confidence in his eyes now. A boldness and determination coloring his expression. And it’s dark and it’s light._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Promise?”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“Promise.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _And then it’s skin meeting skin. And it’s wet and warm as their lips cover each others and their tongues sneak and push their way into mouths, licking and sucking hungrily._
> 
>  
> 
> _It’s opening his legs, inviting Even’s hand that’s gripping his thigh, in further._
> 
>  
> 
> _It’s Even pressing him back into the bed, biting at his jaw and Isak humming at the sensation._
> 
>  
> 
> _It’s the sight of clothes peeling off skin and landing in disorganized heaps across the room._
> 
>  
> 
> _It’s fingers intertwining, pressed into the sheets, squeezing intermittently when sensations become overwhelming._
> 
>  
> 
> _It’s the feeling of skin slipping on skin, damp with sweat as they grind their bodies - hard and soft in all the right places. It’s mouths open and flushed against each other - too distracted to form any pretense of a kiss._
> 
>  
> 
> _It’s Isak giving in as Even takes and takes and takes._
> 
>  
> 
> _It’s legs tangled, flexing in their hold and hands wandering, searching for purchase; seeking to please._
> 
>  
> 
> _It’s the awkward and quick fumble for lube and condoms and sounds breaking the white noise of blood rushing in his head._
> 
>  
> 
> _It’s soft questions of care from Even’s lips, ‘Are you ok?’ and ‘Is this good?’. And it’s Isak’s breathless response of ‘Yes’ every time._
> 
>  
> 
> _It’s gasps and moans, and whines and sighs. It’s profanities and incoherent words._
> 
>  
> 
> _It’s ‘Yes’ and ‘Fuck me. Right there’ and ‘More. More. More’._
> 
>  
> 
> _It’s spit and sweat and a few stray tears._
> 
>  
> 
> _It’s flames pooling in his stomach, a buzz surging through his skin as Even looks at him, eyes glazed over yet focused as he pushes into him over and over._
> 
>  
> 
> _It’s his name and Even’s._
> 
>  
> 
> _It’s pleasured cries breaking out with stuttering bodies receiving their release._
> 
>  
> 
> _It’s heaving chests finding their calm and humid air filling the room._
> 
>  
> 
> _And it’s quiet laughter as Even presses a kiss to his shoulder and moments later asks, “Is this what we do now? End up in bed together?”_
> 
>  
> 
> _It’s Isak looking up at him, mild amusement in his tone when he says, “Sure.” Pausing because he’s a coward, and then, “I mean it’s just sex.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _And it’s a moment where he feels something change. It’s that heat again. The kind that burns instead of warms. But it flees as quickly as it comes and it’s pleasant once again._
> 
>  
> 
> _Another kiss to his shoulder with a sound. A hum? An agreement?_
> 
>  
> 
> _It’s Isak as he looks back at Even, and Even looking back at him. And he thinks that this could work. That this is worth it. And he thinks that he can figure out what ‘It’ is later. Because right now he is tired, but he also feels rested. And he doesn’t want to unwrap his body from Even’s, or Even’s from his._
> 
>  
> 
> _Isak doesn’t go to Violet Lights that night._
> 
>  
> 
> _Or the next weekend._
> 
>  
> 
> _Or the weekend after that._

 

**_NOW 18:26_**

 

Isak decides to eat. Not because he found his appetite, but because he needs something to do. Something that resembles a bit of normalcy. Something mundane.

 

After a few minutes of picking at the burger Jonas brought him, he digs into the fries instead.  They seem less daunting for some reason, and he’s actually able to consume of few of them.

 

He can feel Jonas’s eyes on him while he eats. The heaviness of their breakdown in the bathroom earlier, now gone and replaced with a new weight. The air is already cumbersome with the circumstances they find themselves in. Every breath and sound seemingly excessive in the listlessness of it all, but he knows Jonas wants more. Maybe even demands it.

 

And Isak doesn’t begrudge him those feelings. Jonas is the one who answered his phone late on a Friday night, and received devastating news regarding one of his best friends while driving over thirty minutes in the opposite direction in order to pick up a hysterical Isak.

 

Picking him up from _The Violet District_ , undoubtedly full of questions, wanting to know why Isak was outside of town in an area that was created and populated by a specific demographic of people, yet choosing to maintain his calm and focus on Even.

 

But Isak wasn’t ready to give him answers yet. He was too busy trying to keep his nausea at bay long enough to eat the food in front of him. He was too focused on words like _Medically Induced Coma_ and _Prepare yourself_. He was fighting the memories that kept flooding into his thoughts without his consent, most of them tender and fond; some of them painful and agonizing. He was too fixated on trying to ensure he felt no reprieve and let his mind dwell on the distressing emotions engulfing him, because that’s what he deserves.

 

So when he hears someone walk through the door, interrupting Jonas as he’s about to speak, he feels the only relief he will allow himself at the moment.  

 

And then, as if the universe knows he didn’t earn a respite, his stomach drops when he sees Even’s doctor in the doorway instead of the nurse with the kind eyes that had been updating them all night. Isak looks at him, really takes in every detail he can, hoping that the details will be able to tell him more than the words the man is speaking.

 

But all he sees is tense shoulders and tired eyes. Wrinkled skin that won’t relax and a mouth set in a thin horizontal line. But more importantly, he doesn’t find what he’s looking for.

 

Hope.

 

All that covers this man is uncertainty and doubt. And there is a searing pain slicing through his insides as he vaguely hears the doctors explanation of Even’s current status. He says a lot, but all Isak’s able to recognize is that the prognosis is grim.

 

No change.

 

And it’s apparent how grim things are when the doctor offers both him and Jonas to sit with Even in the room. Even - who is in the critical care unit. And as someone who worked a summer job in this very hospital, Isak is all too aware that patients are only permitted one visitor while on this floor. But he also knows that they bend those rules for a patient who has no real hope. For patients with no expectation of a positive outcome.

 

So Isak just nods, at least he thinks he does, and he allows himself to be led to a new room. This one is darker, no glaring lights except for those coming from the machines surrounding the bed. Even lying on it, head fallen to the side just slightly, small traces of adhesive residue around his lip where the tube in his mouth had been during surgery.

 

He’s faintly aware that Jonas is in the room, but he doesn’t stop himself from dragging the oversized chair to Even’s bedside and gluing his hand to his. He doesn’t stop himself from allowing the stinging sensation in his eyes to burn and flow out with fat tears. He doesn’t keep himself from roaming his gaze over Even’s face, tracing over every feature repeatedly. He doesn’t restrain himself when the same words start coming out of his mouth in wet whispers.

 

“I love you.”

 

“I’m so sorry.”

 

“Please don’t go.”

 

“Pleas…”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Tumblr:**   
>  [NeonViolet](https://Pinkskam.tumblr.com/)


	6. 20:00 - Bros

 

  ** _NOW - 20:00_**

 

He feels Jonas stir next to him and hears his breaths turn from deep and even to shallow and unsteady. They’re both sharing the wide recliner meant for overnight visitors, having pulled it up next to Even’s bed so Isak could keep his hand in his. Jonas has been drifting in and out of sleep every few minutes.

 

They’re exhausted, Isak hasn’t slept since the night before last but is too anxious to rest properly, afraid he’ll miss something crucial if he does. So instead, he keeps Even’s hand in his own. Busies himself with counting every scratch he can see and willing it away. Rubs at his fingers to keep them warm and tries to emanate every single emotion of adoration into him. Hoping that if science and medicine aren’t in their favor then maybe something more cosmic was.

 

“Isak-"

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **_THEN_ **
> 
>  
> 
> _Isak is standing under the hot stream of water rushing out of the shower head above him, body limp and relaxed, still coming down from his second orgasm that day. He lazily squeezes some shampoo into his hand, lathering the soap into his hair as he allows himself to recall the events from a couple of hours prior._
> 
> _He had just come back from a grocery haul, putting all the food away and removing his shirt to stand in front of the open fridge, trying to stave away the overwhelming warmth caused by the sudden heat wave that had been plaguing all of Oslo at the moment. Just stepping outside made his sweat glands work over time, and with no central air conditioning, his kitchen appliance was going to have to do the job for him._
> 
> _He heard Even before he felt him - walking into the kitchen from behind and letting out a low grunt from the back of his throat before pressing his body to Isaks. Even has made no secret over his obsession with Isak’s legs, so with the short cut offs he was wearing, combined with a shirtless and glistening torso - this was bound to happen at some point._
> 
> _His chest was to Isak’s back as his arms snaked around his waist and he lowered his mouth to his ear, catching his lobe in between his teeth in a bite that sent a dull shot of pain and pleasure through him._
> 
> _Even didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. Not with the way he pushed his hips into Isak, pressing his hard-on into the cleft of his ass while one hand slipped around his front to unfasten the button and dipped into the waistband of his shorts, palming hard and deep at Isak’s own hard situation. The way that same grunt from earlier came out again, mixed with a moan, as he realized Isak wasn’t wearing any briefs when his hand came into contact with skin immediately. Or the way both of their breaths raced and came out ragged as Even pulled Isak’s pants down from behind, letting them sit under the curve of his ass, kneading and squeezing ruthlessly while his teeth made their way down his neck and to his shoulder._
> 
> _Isak had maneuvered himself so he was standing in front of the counter, palms down on the surface as he pushed back, presenting himself to Even further. Even had kept a steady pressure on his dick, no strokes, just a firm press - a warm presence - while his other hand came up and he pushed two fingers to Isak’s mouth, dragging down on his bottom lip slightly, asking for entrance. And Isak had opened up, sucking at Even’s fingers as they sat, a heavy weight on his tongue, licking and soaking them in his spit. He knew how much Even loved that, loved having his fingers sucked on, letting Isak’s tongue dance around them. Sometime’s Isak could swear, if given the chance, Even could get off just on fucking his fingers into Isak’s mouth._
> 
> _It was only a theory though, Isak had a much better use of his time - and mouth - than waiting to see if Even could come untouched that way._
> 
> _So he sucked and licked, letting Even put a third finger in as he rutted against him from behind, steadily increasing the pressure his hand had on Isak’s dick and beginning to lift his strokes in time with the rhythm he set against him._
> 
> _And there was something rough and hot about all of it. Something primal in the urgent need to get off against another body that you can’t even be bothered to take your time. Can’t find a clear enough thought to process anything outside of receiving your gratification and pleasure. It was hedonistic and thrilling._
> 
> _Even came in his shorts, one hand still wrapped around Isak’s dick and the other pulling at his lips as he dragged his fingers out of Isak’s mouth, his own still clamped over Isak’s shoulder. His stroking became more erratic and Isak pushed himself into Even’s hand as he came moments later, both men slumped over and heaving, catching their breaths._
> 
> _There was a kiss to his neck and a breathy laugh. “When do we stop dry humping like a couple of puberty stricken teens?”_
> 
> _Isak slowly turned around, still heady from his climax, and pressed his lips to Even’s chin. “When it stops feeling good.”_
> 
> _Even tipped his face in, letting his lips rest against Isak’s, pushing them out into a slight pout at first before slowly moving them against his. It was soft and sweet but still dripping with passion - just like Even._
> 
> _It began to occur to him how peculiar it was that something like a kiss, or in this case - endless kisses, could bring comfort and contentment. Something he was always searching for but somehow always seemed just out of reach. How kissing - the very thing he avoided during his frequent travels to The Violet District, was something that could make him at ease and brought a sense of repose that wasn’t without its own uncertainties._
> 
> _Because that’s what kisses were, weren’t they? The one avenue of sexual affection where it became near impossible to control the emotional and mental outcomes. Sex: that was something Isak could compartmentalize and maneuver. He took what he wanted and gave minimally. But kisses, those were more complicated - too nuanced. Yet here he stood, receiving them and giving them back just as earnestly, and simultaneously revelling in the comfort of it all._
> 
> _And this contentment and peace he felt; this rest that was somehow provided by the touch of Even’s lips to his, could also lead to pleasure - and that was how they found themselves back in Even’s room for round two._
> 
> _Isak came out of his memories as he heard the door to the bathroom push open and the faucet to the sink was turned on._
> 
> _“Thought you were coming back to bed.” He hears the slap of wet skin as Even washes his hands._
> 
> _“I told Jonas I would meet up for drinks with him later. Needed a shower.”_
> 
> _It isn’t a lie. Those are his exact plans for the evening, and if it happens to aid in his continued avoidance of staying in Even’s bed after they sleep together then that was a happy coincidence._
> 
> _But the more clear truth is that there’s still so much about what they are doing that they have yet to discuss. And while a couple of months ago when this all began it felt easy, the reality now is that things seem to be getting a little muddy. Isak’s vision is becoming blurrier and he can’t make out where their friendship ends and their arrangement begins._
> 
> _And there isn’t a sane person out there that would argue against why that is problematic as hell._
> 
> _He takes one more moment and relishes in the heat of the running water gliding down his skin before shutting it off and pulling the curtain aside._
> 
> _Even is standing with his back to the sink, hands resting on the counter and eyes glued to Isak while he reaches for his towel. And Isak can see it all. All of the questions Even wants to ask, all of the declarations and admissions he is dying to voice. And while Isak is washed over with relief that Even keeps those things locked away, his morbid curiosity needs to know what is keeping him from letting it all rush out._
> 
> _But more importantly still - what does Isak really want?_
> 
> _Does he want the silence that comes with constant uncertainty and wonder, or the irreversible consequences of knowing it all and not being able to have any of it?_
> 
> _Does he win in either situation?_
> 
> _They stand there a little longer, both men having silent conversations with themselves but still focusing on the other. And right as it gets to be unbearable and too much, Even pushes himself away from the counter, walks up to Isak, and before either one of them can realize or stop what is happening, he leans in and presses a dry kiss to Isak’s forehead._
> 
> _There’s a moment where their gazes snap to the other. It’s an instant, almost immeasurable, but in that small crack of time he sees the panic and distress that floods Even’s features - an immediate reaction to the confusion Isak is certain he is wearing on his own expression, but also the implications of the small gesture._
> 
> _But it doesn’t last. It can’t last._
> 
> _“Tell Jonas I said hey.” His voice is gruff and low._
> 
> _And then he’s gone._
> 
> _-_
> 
> _He’s concentrating hard on the wood grain of the table in front of him as he registers somewhere that Jonas is speaking to him, letting isak nod here and there as an act of acknowledgment while he falls deeper into his thoughts._
> 
> _It’s hard to explain to any mentally and emotionally well adjusted human the inner conflict Isak is currently engaged in. Part of him wants to go off on a ‘Pretty Woman’ style speech about why kissing is a terrible idea when you find yourself needing to keep emotions out of anything sexual, while the other side of him can argue the merits of allowing it in his current circumstance._
> 
> _Because kissing Even simultaneously feels like a panic attack and finally coming up for air. It feels like walking into an exam he hasn’t prepared for while also filling him with an anticipation he never wants to quell. But mostly, and most frighteningly - it feels like falling in love._
> 
> _He has nothing against the act or the idea of falling in love. He isn’t a hard-assed jerk who refuses to believe in commitment or feelings. Both of those are things he adores and craves - they just aren’t things he can have. Because in order for Isak to have a love like the one he desires so fully, that at times the mere thought of it becomes overwhelming and makes it difficult to breathe, he has to allow himself to really be with a man. And while many of the well intentioned blogs and articles Google has provided in Isak’s desperate late night searches suggest numerous approaches to overcoming the fear that can attach itself to coming out - he has yet to find one that will help him deal with the memories that rush to the front of his mind when he so much as entertains the idea of attempting this bravery._
> 
> _Because nothing has yet to rid him of his father's words. The hatred he spewed when Isak’s mother died and her brother came to visit with the family during that time. How his father made it known that “No fag was ever going to put their dirty hands on his son!” and “Take your indecency out of my house!” or “She’s resting in peace now that she doesn’t have to live with knowing she had a filthy homosexual for a brother.”_
> 
> _No one has been able to explain how to remove the memory of his uncle’s face as he looked at 5 year old Isak - tears running down his cheeks and neck, and a million silent words of hurt and regret - as he said nothing, turned around and walked out of the door, leaving Isak to fully grasp the idea of abandonment before even starting school._
> 
> _No one seems to know how to undo the years and years of terror and anxiety he lived in just being in the same house as his father when he began to realize he was just like his uncle, or remove the deep seated feeling of worthlessness from it all. The worthlessness that came from a father who couldn’t love him because he was never wanted to begin with and because his mother was no longer around to be a buffer. A worthlessness that came from knowing his father could and would never love him enough to stay sober and take care of him. And the worthlessness that was attached to the knowledge that his own father would absolutely never love him if he knew that Isak loved men._
> 
> _All of this is what he thinks about and feels when the idea of coming out and being open ever gets a chance to momentarily live in his mind. And with it comes panic - and panic brings too many unknown variables. Too many things he can’t control._
> 
> _So instead he goes to school and thrives in the med program. He works and supports himself and most days his father. He has a small group of friends who he spends time with and cares for even if he hides a few things from them. And on the weekends he finds something between a release and self retribution. He allows himself to experience in private what he could never do in public - but even that has to come with a price. So sometimes he allows them to be rough with him as well - because the part of him that feels unworthy of anything more is always the loudest part of him._
> 
> _And yet still, there’s the puzzle piece that never seems to fit anywhere - Even._
> 
> _Even, who knows all of his secrets and keeps them with a fierce sense of loyalty. Who watches over him every weekend and checks his body for the physical reminders of Isak’s emotional pain. Who showers Isak in a devotion he has only ever imagined, but also showers him in kisses - a variety of which never seems to end._
> 
> _Urgent kisses that lead to heated evenings in between sheets. Messy kisses that are nothing more than skin meeting skin while their bodies do the rest. Needy kisses after they’ve come down and need the distraction of something slow and placid to help bring them back. And now small kisses before one of them leaves to go out, that scream of a different kind of affection and intimacy - one in which neither of them seem to be eager to discuss._
> 
> _A different kind of affection and intimacy._
> 
> _Isak let’s those words ruminate in his head for a while._
> 
> _Is it different? Is it really at all different?_
> 
> _This is where everything has become blurry. Trying to distinguish the part of him that loves his best friend and the part of him that could possibly find itself falling in love with him._
> 
> _“..Even-’_
> 
> _His head pops up, at the sound of that name, face burning when he sees Jonas looking at him expectantly, beer bottle in one hand while the other pauses above his plate of nachos._
> 
> _“Hmm?”_
> 
> _Jonas puts the nachos down, taking a sip from his drink instead, and pierces Isak with a gaze that lets him know how aware he is that he hasn’t been paying attention to him most of the night._
> 
> _“I was asking if you knew who Even was seeing. I’ve been trying to set him up with Thea since she got back home last month but he comes up with weak excuses every time.” He pauses long enough to stuff his mouth with a few chips. “Finally confronted him about it last week when we met up for kebab and he said he’s been seeing someone for a while.”_
> 
> _Thea? Jonas’s older sister, Thea?_
> 
> _Isak doesn’t say anything, just watches as Jonas takes another long pull from his beer and keeps a steady eye on Isak before continuing._
> 
> _“Just thought you’d have more insight since you live together. That’s not really the kind of thing Even would keep to himself for this long, ya know?” He goes back to picking pieces of onion off of the nachos while Isak focuses on maintaining a straight face instead of showing the irritation and panic that is currently brewing inside of him._
> 
> _Irritation, because Isak had no idea Jonas had been trying to set Even up with his sister who Even definitely used to crush on when they were younger, and panic because Even is one stupid and careless remark away from fucking everything up._
> 
> _Isak swallows the rest of his beer, pulling from the bottle deeply before setting it down._
> 
> _“With summer over and classes starting again, we don’t see much of each other.” He picks at the peeling label of the bottle in his hands. “I’ve got labs and he’s got his internship at the hospital, so--” He waves his hand in a general movement, hoping to articulate some sort of unspoken generalization to Jonas before he screws it all up and unnecessarily over explains himself._
> 
> _Jonas just stares at him with a quizzical look on his face, but nods his head anyway. Isak can feel the thin mask of nonchalance and ignorance slipping as he continues to think of how fucking stupid Even was to say anything - anything at all - to Jonas._
> 
> _His friend pushes the plate of nachos towards him. “Are you gonna eat any of this or what?”_
> 
> _Isak’s not hungry._
> 
> _-_
> 
> _He’s struggling to get his key into the lock, hands shaking and having a hard time settling since he left Jonas at the bar with an excuse about needing to do some studying. He stills himself long enough to get into his apartment and throws his keys just to get them out of his hands so he doesn’t have to hear the jingle from his nerves._
> 
> _He’s walking to Even’s room - knows he’s in there after he saw the light from the window before entering the building. He also knows he needs to calm himself. Knows that the anger coursing through him right now is a product of an enormous amount of fear. He knows this. He’s self aware enough to see the root of everything he does in his life. Understands his own personal cause and effect. But being self aware, while all well and good when you’re in a therapy session, does absolutely nothing for you when you are ill equipped with proper and healthy coping mechanisms._
> 
> _So he knows he should take a beat first, but he pushes the already ajar door open and stands by the tv stand, looking at Even and doing his damndest to breathe normally._
> 
> _He watches the expression on Even’s face go from startled to alarmed as he pauses his movie and gets up to stand in front of Isak. He can see the alarm turn to worry and uncertainty. Can see Even’s internal struggle to want to reach out and offer some sort of physical touch of comfort but also sees how he can sense the rejection he would receive if he did._
> 
> _Isak can see all of that, and it infuriates him further. Because damn Even! Damn him and his intuition and empathy. Fuck him and his knowledge of Isak. How he knows what’s he’s feeling and what he needs. How he selflessly puts his own desires to the side in order to be Isak’s crutch. Fuck him and his ability to see Isak, truly see him. Because it has fucked up everything. Because now Isak can see it all for himself, and he wants it. He wants it so desperately and he can feel each piece of his heart as it shatters and falls knowing he can’t have it. So fuck Even._
> 
> _“Isak--” He moves forward as he speaks, and Isak is trembling and physically feels the heat radiating from his body as Even takes a step forward, arm extending out._
> 
> _“Don’t touch me.” Even’s face drops a little in confusion, but he takes a step back anyway. He doesn’t have to tell Even that he spoke with Jonas and knows what he said, because it’s painted all over his expression as it all dawns on him._
> 
> _But Even steps forward again, slowly pushing himself into Isak’s space._
> 
> _“Isak, listen it’s ok--”_
> 
> _“I said don’t fucking touch me!” He retreats back like an animal cornered and watches Even’s eyes begin to swim in moisture. And then the stinging sensation in the back of his own betrays him. He doesn’t want to hurt for him right now. Doesn’t want to feel remorse. Can’t handle the sheer density of raw emotions already running through and around him._
> 
> _“Isak, please let’s talk for a minute.” His voice is gentle and earnest but clouded and wet and it slices through Isak’s chest like a hot knife. And it burns, and he wishes desperately he was stronger. Strong enough to handle this. Strong enough to be what Even needs. Strong enough to be what he needs for himself._
> 
> _His phone rings and he jolts from the sound. Wiping his face furiously, he pulls the phone out of his pocket before seeing an unknown number and putting it on speaker. Needing any excuse to keep Even and this whole situation on an indefinite pause._
> 
> _He doesn’t get a chance to speak before the unmistakable slur of his father's voice greets him on the other end._
> 
> _“Isak? Fuck.” He hears muffled voices in the background and the rustling and fumble of a phone being dropped and then picked up again. “Isak, I need you to come get me out of this fucking place.”_
> 
> _He closes his eyes and tilts his head toward the ceiling. “Where are you?” His tone is curt and impatient preparing to hear the name of whatever bar his father has found himself lying outside of, too wasted to pick his own body up._
> 
> _“They’ve got me locked in Fensel.” He hears another muffled sound into the receiver followed by a string of curses. “Don’t be a bitch. Just come and get me dammit.” He spits out the words and Isak flinches. He hears how wasted and volatile his father is, surprised he hasn’t blacked out yet. He knows without receiving an explanation that his father was physical with someone - this isn’t his first run in with the law for assault. He also knows if he gets any more agitated he’ll become more belligerent and only make things worse for himself._
> 
> _He takes a steadying breath and rakes his hand through his hair, exhaling as he prepares for a night of picking his father up from jail and staying with him until he’s settled and calm at home._
> 
> _“Jesus christ dad.” It’s barely an admonishment. Too shaky and too quiet. He’s so fucking tired. Just so goddamn tired._
> 
> _“Just come and pick me up! Shit! It’s enough I’ve got to deal with this bullshit, don’t need to have a pussy for a son too!” And Isak bites his lip in hurt and worry, not wanting to work his father up more._
> 
> _But before he can say anything - give his father a response and let him know he’s on his way - his phone is removed from his hand and Even ends the call before throwing it on his desk chair._
> 
> _And all at once that fear and worry and fury that had been boiling beneath him; a violent simmer waiting to erupt, finally breaks through the surface and explodes, manifesting itself as he pushes at Even’s chest with a force he’d never intentionally use in calmer circumstances._
> 
> _“What the fuck Even?!” He pushes at his chest again, and this time Even is prepared for it, digging his heels into the floor and wrapping his hands around Isak’s forearms, holding him in place._
> 
> _“Isak--” He searches for Isak’s eyes, waiting for them to settle and for his struggle to cease. “Isak look at me.” And there’s something in his voice that pacifies him, even if only for a moment. He meets his gaze but he still pulls, fruitlessly trying to free himself from Even’s hold._
> 
> _“Let me go Even.” He’s speaking through clenched teeth. His voice steadier than his body._
> 
> _“I’m not doing that Isak.” Safe. Unwavering._
> 
> _“Let me go dammit!” Frenzied, he pulls again, but Even just moves his hands up further to grip his wrists._
> 
> _“Isak, I’m not letting you walk out of this house to go after him. Do you understand me?” He tilts his head down, forcing eye contact again and speaks lowly, enunciating every word. “I said I’m not letting you go.”_
> 
> _Everything is steady and warm - Even’s gaze and voice and hold. And the stinging is back and the tears rushing down his face are searing and numerous and he thinks, through the watery distortion of his sight, he can see Even’s face polluted with his own tears._
> 
> _He yanks one arm free and turns to move away, but it’s weak and Even grabs him from behind, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and pressing him firmly to his chest. And Isak grips his arms, the clutch his only anchor, heaving with the sobs escaping him._
> 
> _“Even, please. Let me go to him. He needs me.” He hates himself as he says it. Hears how pathetic it sounds after the words his father spewed at him. But even as he begs to be released he holds on tighter, and Even grabs at his hand, clutching as he leans his head into Isak’s hair._
> 
> _“No he doesn’t.” It’s murmured but firm and he feels Even’s tears as they drop down onto the back of his neck, can feel the wet warmth of his breath as he speaks against him. “He doesn’t need you Isak. And you don’t need the toxicity anymore.” He squeezes the hand holding Isak’s. “You need to be here.” A shaky breath. “You need me.” A steadier breath and lips to his hair. “I need you.”_
> 
> _And everything is warm again - and it’s the soothing kind. The kind that doesn’t burn but heals._
> 
> _And it’s tender, so tender, as Even’s lips find their way to the corner of his neck and shoulder pushing all of that warmth into his skin as he presses kiss after kiss into him. Soft and feather light, questioning and tentative. Isak turns his face over his shoulder towards Even in silent response. A wordless consent, a quiet plea. And Even hears it - of course he does - as he guides his mouth up Isaks neck and against his jaw, a warm kiss and a stuttering breath - repeats the actions over his cheek like an incantation._
> 
> _Isak turns his body fully to look at Even, brings his hands up to his face, gingerly holding him and watching as a fresh batch of tears make their journey down, can feel a few of his own still escaping. He leans forward and presses his mouth to his cheek, catching the tears with his lips and moving to the next one and the next one. His fingers carefully brush away at the onslaught of moisture that continues to escape and presses his mouth to Even’s lips as he caresses him softly, slowly._
> 
> _Lovingly._
> 
> _And it’s the loveliest kiss Isak has ever experienced. It’s sweet and full of adoration, the taste of salt mixing with the honeyed flavor of Even. It’s slow and beautiful and poetic. It’s full of words yet to be written or discovered. It’s unsung songs and declarations of desire._
> 
> _And with every movement and brush, every smudge and press he can hear Even’s own silent words - questions._
> 
> _He can hear ‘Do you choose me?’ as Even sighs into his mouth. He can hear ‘Are you mine?’ when he finds the corner of his lips and licks at it softly._
> 
> _And he hears Even’s admissions as well. It’s ‘I choose you. I’ve always chosen you.’ when he lifts up Isak’s shirt, pressing a kiss to each eyelid as he drops it on the floor beside him. He hears ‘Are you mine yet?’ as buttons are unfastened and clothing is discarded, skin littered with kisses in between. And he hears yearning and devotion and something so close to love when he gently lies Isak on the bed and hovers above him, forehead to forehead and nothing but a breath between their lips._
> 
> _Isak can see everything right then and there in the glistening pools of blue as he looks into Even’s eyes. It’s all so clear and nothing is hidden. Nothing ever was hidden. Even has never kept anything from Isak - he just chose to ignore it. Rationalize it away, inflicting himself with the pain he knows so well and finds a complicated comfort in - pushing that same pain into the very soul trying to free him from it._
> 
> _So when Even licks his lips, and inadvertently Isak’s as well, and whispers “Isak, I love you. I’ve always loved you.” Isak reaches around and clasps Even’s hand in his, fingers braided into a fist, lifting it up and resting it near his head, letting Even’s weight fall and settle on top of him, he whispers back just as earnestly, “I love you Even. I’ve always loved you.”_
> 
> _How could it be anything else? How could it ever have been anything else? Of course it’s love, it’s always been love._
> 
> _It’s love when Even touches every part of his body with one hand skimming over his lines and curves, the other gripped within Isaks. It’s love when Even opens him up, smudging wet kisses on the inside of his thigh and the top of his hips, twined hands still together and resting on his abdomen._
> 
> _It’s love when he’s rocking into Isak, slow and deep, tears running down both of their faces again, not from hurt or pain, but because it’s overwhelming and beautiful and they were barely made to contain all that they feel._
> 
> _It’s love that keeps their lips together because it feels like suffocating when they aren’t. Because the only way to really breathe is with their mouths and tongues moving and dancing with each other._
> 
> _It’s love when they are silent, and it’s love when there is nothing but gasps and moans._
> 
> _It’s love when it’s intense gazes, reading into the other and it’s love when eyes are screwed shut in ecstacy._
> 
> _It’s love when words are whispered sweetly, not making any sense and still being the most clear thoughts shared. And it’s love when it’s those three words chanted out over and over again._
> 
> _“I love you.”_
> 
> _“I love you.”_
> 
> _“I love you.”_
> 
> _It’s love. It’s always been love._

-

 

**_NOW -_**

 

“Isak,” Jonas repeats, sitting up straighter and when Isak turns to look at him, his eyes are much clearer than what he expects from someone who has just roused from sleep. He angles himself to better face him, never removing his hand from Even’s.

 

Jonas rakes his fingers through his hair, hand settling on the back of his neck while a distressed look settles onto his features. And that was saying something given their current situation, so Isak just nods, indicating he has his attention.

 

“I don’t know how to do this.” He exhales, licking his lip in a nervous tick. “Hell, I don’t even know that i’m supposed to do it this way.” His voice is shaking and Isak’s level of alarm is maxing out again.

 

“This might put me in the shitty friend hall-of-fame somewhere, but all I know right now is that I’ve got a best friend lying in front of me half dead and my other best friend is deteriorating from the inside out watching all of this happen. And call me selfish, but I can’t fucking handle it anymore. It’s too much pain. It hurts too much Isak and I can’t handle it anymore.”

 

Isak can hear the tremor in Jonas’s voice, how he is close to hysterics but seems to catch himself, takes a steadying breath, Isak’s own breathing picking up at the ferocity of Jonas’s tone.

 

“Isak, you are my family. You’ve been my brother since we were kids and I love my family more than I love anything else in this life.” He leans forward and grips at Isak’s knee urging him to look at him. “Do you know that? I need you to understand that Isak.”

 

And he does. He feels it. Feels the embrace of Jonas’s words surround him, chin shaking gently at the effort to keep himself together, letting his friend continue with his words as he senses there is more.

 

“I’m not sure if it’s okay for me to say this, but If I leave it up you I’m afraid i’ll find myself in this situation again and I can’t lose two of you, so fuck it. Extenuating circumstances and all that.” He waves his hand around in a vague gesture and Isak feels knots tightening in his stomach from not knowing, yet absolutely knowing what was coming next.

 

Jonas’s eyes leave his and land on the hand clutching at Even’s, keeping his gaze there as he speaks.

 

“You can love him, you know? You should love him,” He pauses for a beat. “because he was so in love with you.”

 

Isak cries - silent tears that come without sobs or exertion. Tears that fall without a thought, without consent. And as he waits for the panic to rise and take over, waits for the inevitable fear and shame to drown him in that familiar sense of worthlessness - he feels Jonas’s  hand take his free one and still, he cries. Because he can breathe. Because he is overwhelmed with the most unfamiliar amount of relief. He cries because something inside of him cracks open and he can hear _You are worthy. You are loved._ And he cries, because he believes it. Because he’s always had love.

 

It’s always been love.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Tumblr:**   
>  [NeonViolet](https://Pinkskam.tumblr.com/)


	7. 21:12 - Pause

 

 

> **_THEN_  
>  **
> 
>  
> 
> _It’s warm outside, but not unbearably so. The Oslo heatwave seemingly subsided, but stepping into the cafe still brings a welcome respite from the sun's rays. Isak steps in line, knowing Even will be there shortly, and enjoys the moment of solitude before he’s faced with the embodiment of the storm inside of him right now. It’s not an unpleasant feeling - just something he’s still confused about and trying to make sense of in his head._
> 
>  
> 
> _Because this morning he woke up in Even’s bed. This morning he woke up wrapped around Even; surrounded by Even. This morning he found himself breaching the tacit agreement they had when it came to their overnights, which was to say that there were to be none._
> 
>  
> 
> _Regardless of how long they had been at this, Isak never stayed in Even’s bed and he made sure Even never stayed in his. It wasn’t a verbal contract - but it had been understood. Yet still Isak found himself lazily waking up to the sounds of light traffic outside the window and the feel of Even’s breath on his shoulder - and it wasn’t the worst thing to happen. He woke up inches from a face, whose freckles he had memorized, and his world didn’t come to an end. He woke up and allowed himself to indulge in the sight of Even next to him, pillow carelessly pushed to the edge of the bed and face half buried into the mattress - and he didn’t feel anything akin to terror._
> 
>  
> 
> _So he decided to allow himself this peace. He gave himself this respite - even if it was indefinite._
> 
>  
> 
> _And so they woke slowly, a rosy blush blooming on both of their cheeks when they locked eyes and recalled the previous evening's events, yet not quite shy enough to look away from the other. They stayed in bed long enough to enjoy the cool morning breeze making its way through the open curtains and burrowed themselves further beneath the thin sheets while Isak listened to Even talk mindlessly about his internship at the hospital. And they both, eventually and reluctantly, left the comfort of the bedroom to begin their late morning routines of coffee and breakfast with talk radio playing in the background._
> 
>  
> 
> _It was all so utterly mundane and it left Isak wanting more. A lightness and tranquility had replaced the fraught and charged air that had previously lived between them. Isak hadn’t realized he hadn’t been breathing until this very moment._
> 
>  
> 
> _That morning while he sat on the counter staring at Even styling his hair, it wasn’t with his usual exaggerated grumpiness but with a relaxed sense of self and a weight of adoration. And when Isak reached out to touch at the blonde locks, Even didn’t slap his hand away or try and stop him. Instead, moved in between Isak’s knees and let him run his fingers through the strands, twisting lightly this way and that, attempting a style but enjoying the sensuality of the moment. Letting the hair glide through his fingers and twirl around the ends over and over, before finally meeting Even’s eyes and dropping his hands onto his shoulders when Even’s came to find his hips._
> 
>  
> 
> _He inhaled a cleansing breath as Even leaned in, foreheads meeting, before quietly asking, “How do I look?”_
> 
>  
> 
> _He let his eyes flutter shut when he responded back just as softly with, “Good. I did a good job.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Whispers. Always whispers._
> 
>  
> 
> _They both hummed, letting their noses skim across each other, breathing the other in. And if Isak could describe this moment visually, he would say it’s like an overexposed scene with the light outside shining through the window, filtered by glass, and lens flares appearing here and there between silhouettes of profiles and hands._
> 
>  
> 
> _If Isak could describe how it felt tangibly, he would say it was the warm childlike excitement the night before your birthday party. It was the glide and fill of your favorite latte running through your body after coming in from the bitter cold. It was waking from a dream where you thought you were drowning, inhaling deeply and realizing you were still alive._
> 
>  
> 
> _And when Even pressed a slow kiss to his lips with a promise to meet him for coffee after he ran a few errands, he realized it was everything warm and lovely and right._
> 
>  
> 
> _Until it wasn’t._
> 
>  
> 
> _There’s a phenomenon that scientists have yet to fully understand when it comes to the body’s ability to read temperature: in short - it cannot._
> 
>  
> 
> _For instance, if you simultaneously place one hand onto a cold surface and then the other hand on a hot surface for any length of time, the moment you remove your hands and place them onto something room temperature, your brain is unable to understand what it is feeling and goes into a bit of a confused frenzy - therefore telling the nerves in your hand that they are both burning and cold - when in fact that isn’t happening at all. It all becomes chaotic and a bit of a mental whiplash, your brain can’t give you an accurate read of what is actually happening. The hand that was previously on the hot surface is now feeling a cold sensation and the hand that was previously on the cold surface is now feeling a burning sensation._
> 
>  
> 
> _It’s as if your body has been focused on one too many strong sensations, dividing its attention when both feelings need equal amounts of regard. The things ignored by one area now falling abruptly in front of you and demanding your attention. It can’t cope, can’t tell you what is happening and how to properly react, so instead it combusts and you feel everything._
> 
>  
> 
> _Is it hot or is it cold?_
> 
>  
> 
> _Will it burn or will it soothe?_
> 
>  
> 
> _Does it hurt or does it heal?_
> 
>  
> 
> _So when Even arrives at the cafe, meeting him in line and leaning in to kiss him and grabbing for his hand at the same time, there’s a part of him somewhere that says this is ok. It’s the same part of him that was front and center this morning during their hazy and calm bubble. The part of him that was present for the fond looks and soft caresses. The part of him that revelled in the feel of lips pressed to lips combined with the heady mix of bold moves and shy looks. The part that felt alive and safe._
> 
>  
> 
> _But there is another part that silently screams in terror from the public touch. Something that sends his heart racing and his entire body lights up into fight or flight. A part that recoils immediately, looking around for wandering eyes and recognizable faces. Something that sends a jolt of pain that burns on a surface level._
> 
>  
> 
> _And then there is the part he knows he should be focused on - Even in front of him with a wounded look full of rejection and distress covering his body. Even, who may as well be bleeding in front of him but Isak’s mind and body won’t allow him to react properly - won’t allow him to reach out and save his friend. And that awareness may be the only accurate and true feeling he is experiencing right now._
> 
>  
> 
> _But who’s to say what is truth?_
> 
>  
> 
> _Because now he feels the heat of fear radiating through his body and out of his extremities, but he also registers the sudden shiver making its way through his spine and out of his skin._
> 
>  
> 
> _Hot or cold?_
> 
>  
> 
> _His senses heightened and sensitive to everything surrounding him. The cool tinny clang of a spoon on a plate feeling like the chattering of teeth. His vision fading, edges clouding like smoke rising from a fire._
> 
>  
> 
> _Hot or cold?_
> 
>  
> 
> _He backs away, and heads out into the streets. He sees the sun and knows the season - but his body feels nothing. He can’t feel warmth._
> 
>  
> 
> _He turns the corner, rushing towards their building in a walk that becomes a jog, hears Even calling out behind him, begging him to stop but his body chose flight and it’s committed._
> 
>  
> 
> _When he finally reaches their apartment and steps inside, it’s like a rush of blood to his head. Like an alarm going off that he never set. He’s staring at Even and he knows he should say something to assuage the moment and bring relief where everything is tight and fragile. He knows he should reach out and offer something to alleviate and soften, because they’re home now. He is safe._
> 
>  
> 
> _He knows this._
> 
>  
> 
> _But he also knows that this feeling is fleeting. That he can’t live in it forever. Because there will always be those voices in the back of his mind ready to remind him of the sound of his father’s words and the look of his uncle’s rejection. And those thoughts tingle and burn and before he registers anything he hears the words coming out of his mouth._
> 
>  
> 
> _“What the fuck were you doing?!” It’s a cry and a hiss. “You can’t--”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“Can’t what Isak?! Can’t touch you? Can’t be with you? Can’t love you? Is it one or all of those things? What can’t I do, dammit?!”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“What are we even doing Even? What the fuck were we thinking? This isn’t something that can be. It can’t exist.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _And the outrage in Even’s face melts to something small and feeble. Something so close to being shattered. He moves into his space, grabbing at Isak’s jaw and cheeks with a grip that’s equal parts tender and firm._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Isak look at me.” He doesn’t._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Look at me goddammit!” He does._
> 
>  
> 
> _“I have been in love with you for years, and I have loved you for longer.” Isak grabs at Even’s forearms, certain he will collapse if he doesn’t. Gasping for breath as he listens to the admissions pouring out of Even. “I have loved you obsessively and have loved you like my family. I have loved your mind and your heart and I have loved every inch of your body. But right now, in this moment and maybe forever, I love you like a man loves a man.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Isak feels his head shaking, his body manifesting its own denial, and Even watches, two wayward tears blazing a trail down his face as he nods and forces out whispered ‘yes’s’._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Yes Isak, I do.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Inhale in. Exhale out._
> 
>  
> 
> _“But I can’t.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Even’s releases the hold on Isak’s face, takes a step back like he’s been burned._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Isak--”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“No Even, you don’t get to do this! You don’t get to act like you didn’t know any of this. You don’t get to look at me like you haven't known me - all of me - for most of our lives! This,” he gestures frantically in between the two of them, “isn’t something I can do. I’m not capable. I can’t love you like that. I just can’t.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _The two tears on Even’s face turn to four then five then a constant stream rushing down the slopes of his skin._
> 
>  
> 
> _He takes another step back, pushing his hand through his hair and pulling it in frustration._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Isak, I love you, but you are breaking me.” A sob escapes from Even and Isak chokes at the sound, fear of a different kind overwhelming him, clutching his heart and squeezing painfully, slowly. “I can’t keep letting you do this.” He’s talking but his focus is somewhere else, like a revelation he is working out. “You hurt yourself and it kills me. You let other men hurt you and it kills me further. You live your life like you owe a debt to your father, a man who deserves nothing from you - nothing - but you run to him and let him take piece after piece of you and you become smaller and smaller and it breaks me. And I can’t do it any longer. I love you so much it hurts, and it’s breaking me. You’re pushing me away, and it’s breaking me. I am broken, and I need to leave while I can still fix myself.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _The vice on Isak’s heart tightens. “What? Leave?”_
> 
>  
> 
> _But Even isn’t answering. He’s grabbing his keys and walking away._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Even, what the fuck?! Where are you going?!”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Even stops at the door, turns around and settles his watery gaze on Isak, wiping furiously at his face._
> 
>  
> 
> _“I still love you. Probably always will. It’s you that doesn’t love you.” He turns back, hand on the doorknob, “It just wasn’t enough” It’s a whispered self rebuke, and then he’s gone. And the only sound is the shatter of Isak’s heart._

 

 

**_NOW - 21:12_ **

 

He doesn’t look at Jonas when he speaks.

 

“The reason he’s here is because of me.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Tumblr:**   
>  [NeonViolet](https://Pinkskam.tumblr.com/)


	8. 21:21 - Livet Er Nå

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We made it everyone! 
> 
> There will be lots of love in the end notes, but I wanted to quickly mention that now that Creatures of Habit is complete I will return my energy into SBTC and UTY. They were on hiatus for this event. 
> 
> Love y’all!

**_NOW - 21:21_ **

 

_“The reason he’s here is because of me.”_

 

Isak had finally finished filling Jonas in about the last 48 hours. Told him about his father being in jail. Briefly mentioned the ambiguous arrangement he and Even had shared and about the fight - breakup - they’d had. Told him about the harsh words that were said and the hurt he caused his best friend. Jonas had been silent, letting Isak explain everything in painful detail.

 

“What do you mean? You weren’t in the car--”

 

Isak sighed, eyes never leaving Even’s face.

 

“No, I wasn’t. But he was coming for me.”

 

Jonas remained quiet, his confusion palpable as he let Isak continue.

 

“I went to Violet Lights later that night after he left. It was dumb probably, but I was angry and crushed and hated myself so much in that moment. So I went. But I couldn’t do anything.” He snorted out a humorless laugh. “Didn’t even drink. Just walked into the club and stayed in a corner most of the night.” He scrubs at his face, needing to get through this. Needing to say all of this out loud.

 

“I used to go every weekend. Drink a little, fuck a little, get banged up a little. It was this thing I needed to do. I felt like it was the only way I could allow myself some honesty - but the need to hurt myself was just as strong and I let men hurt me too. And Even, he hated it. But he knows when and where to push, so he never forced me to stop. Instead he just showed up every night, parked outside the bar and waited until I was done and would take me home.” He paused, remembering the mornings he would spend with Even checking his skin for bruises. Remembering the soft touches and the longing looks. He catches a tear before it can begin a path on his skin.

 

“I left early last night. Well, earlier than usual. Was just after one when I walked out of the club and I got the call from the hospital. I’m his emergency contact. Did you know that?” He doesn’t wait for a response, and Jonas doesn’t offer one. “Of course you know that. I’m his family. That’s why they called me. That’s why it was me on the other line when they told me he had been hit driver’s side by a drunk driver.” He hears Jonas’s intake of breath behind him at the reminder of the irony of the situation. How Even’s own parents died in a crash at the hands of someone driving under the influence, only to find himself in a similar situation years later. The universe is sick like that.

 

“The crash happened on _Storgata_  - a block from _Violet Lights_. He was coming to get me.” He studied Even’s face. Had already memorized every scratch, cut, and bruise the way he knew everyone of his freckles.

 

“Isak,” Jonas’s hand was on his shoulder now, it was supposed to be comforting but Isak couldn’t allow it.

 

“We had fought and I broke him. He told me that - he said I broke him. And he still came to get me. I hurt him and told him I couldn’t love him and he still came after me to take me home. I looked him in the eye and ripped him apart and he still needed to make sure I was safe.” His tears were running again, an open faucet leaking and pouring over his face and landing on the hand clinging to Even’s.

 

“He’s so fucking stupid!” He was hysterical now, but there was nothing to be done for it. Jonas seeming to sense that, squeezing the hand wrapped over his shoulder. Letting him know he was still there. “He was supposed to be thinking about himself. He was supposed to stop letting me hurt him - but still--” He drops his head on to his outstretched arm and lets himself succumb to the sobbing. Lets the violent tremors rip through his body and doesn’t try to stop them. Lets Jonas run his hand over his back and whisper soft soothing words to him - and he finally lets the comfort of it surround him.

 

He stays like that a little longer, waiting as the entire episode starts to subside and he can hear the sighs and whirs of the machines in the room, the morbid and appropriate soundtrack to his evening. He hums softly when Jonas gets up and tells him he’s going to make some phone calls and get some water. He takes deep open mouthed breaths, feeling the humid air of his mouth cover the skin on the back of his and Even’s arms where they meet. And he freezes when he hears the soft unmistakable sound of a sheet rustling and feels the lightest touch to his head - fingers brushing at the hair fallen over his face.

 

Even.

 

It’s slow, so painfully slow, as he lifts his head and his eyes are met with the color of blueglass.

 

Somewhere common sense is telling him to get up and get the doctor. To find a button to press and alert a nurse or staff of what he sees in front of him. But common sense was never a friend of Isak’s to begin with.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hey back.” Even winces at his own voice, thick and full of gravel from disuse and the scratchiness from the removal of the tube earlier.

 

“I can’t give you water.” They’re feeble words and he knows Even knows this. They’re both med students, but Isak needs something to fill the space.

 

“I know.” It’s slow again and now Isak is wincing inwardly at the pain he knows Even must be feeling.

 

“Let me call someone--” He goes to get up, but he feels the weak tug of the hand he’s had clasped with Even’s all night. So he sits back down and forces himself to ignore his own discomfort. Forces himself to meet Even’s eyes for the first time in what feels like weeks but has just been over a day.

 

Even, licking his lips, speaks first.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

And if that isn’t a loaded question.

 

Isak wants to yell at him. Tell him to stop caring so much. Tell him to be a little selfish for one fucking moment in his life. But he can’t - because that’s not Even. He wants to tell him that he’s not okay. That he’s gutted and shattered because of the things he said. Wants to tell him that he’s been scared out of his mind since he got the call from the hospital that he’d been hurt. But he won’t because that would do more damage than good right now.

 

So he thinks about what he can say. What he should say. What is true.

 

He looks at Even and he sees a little bit of pink coloring his face finally, making him look alive. He feels the warmth that has rushed through his hands, replacing the cold, lifeless feel of them from before. And a small breathy laugh bubbles from his throat and out of him.

 

“I’m okay.” Because he is. And he will be.

 

Even’s expression is a bit dazed, a bit confused and he can see an exhaustion that he’s trying to fight. And Isak knows it’s now. Knows that he needs to call a doctor in here now so Even can rest and heal, but knows that there’s one thing Even needs to hear before he can do that with the ease and comfort he deserves. So with the gentlest of touches he takes Even’s hand in both of his, and with the most earnest of tones, he leans in until their eyes almost become unfocused from the closeness. Until all Isak can feel is Even’s breath fanning over his mouth.

 

And then he speaks, voice quiet but firm and assured  

 

“Even, I love you like a man loves a man.” Their eyes shift back and forth as they search each other.

 

He knows that Even understands all of what is being promised in those words. It’s not a love in secret, but a promise of a love lived loudly. Not a life where shame governs his choices, but one where he allows himself to be healed and to soothe in return.

 

A breath. A beat.

 

“Promise?”

 

“Promise.”

 

Whispers. Always whispers.

 

Creatures of habit.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! What a ride!
> 
> This was the most fun I’ve had writing something in this fandom and I hope you were moved or at least enjoyed the ride today. 
> 
> A lot of hands assisted in this and regardless of the amount of work they put in, it’s important to me to recognize them because my favorite part of fanfiction is community - and I found a lovely one during this event. 
> 
> So a thank you to the wonderful banter between [Amfelia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amfelia/pseuds/Amfelia) and [Bewa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bewa/pseuds/Bewa) \- both of whom inspired a shirtless Isak in front of the freezer due to their light hearted complaints of the Oslo heatwave. As well as a thorough explanation of street names in Norway. <333
> 
> And I can’t bring up cute Norwegian gurus without mentioning [Tonje](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rapunzel75) and [Magni](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pagnilagni/pseuds/pagnilagni) who gave me countless amounts of information on the Norwegian prison system only for me to utilize that information in one word. True hero’s, both of you. 
> 
> I know i mentioned them in the beginning, but Chelsea and Martha really made some stunning pieces. I went into this event as a way to pass the time and meet new people. I assumed I’d find a piece that I would like _enough_ to write about - but instead I found two pieces that genuinely moved me the moment I experienced them. This entire process was more than I could ask for because of that.  <333
> 
> And lastly (because if I started out with her I’d never get to anyone else) I have to mention [Skamsnake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skamsnake/pseuds/skamsnake). I know y’all hear me gush over her all the time, but she really deserves it. For whatever reason, I took this challenge and fic so seriously and she did as well. She not only loved this story and made me love it time after time when I started to get insecure, but she read scenes over and over again, told me when things needed to be moved around, had incredible insight into these characters and their motivations, went through four drafts and spent over three consecutive hours coming up with how to split the chapters and a posting schedule as well as naming them. For whatever reason she loves me and I’m a better person because of it and this story is definitely better because of her too. 
> 
> Anyways, if you made it to the end of this story and the end of these notes - I’d love to hear what you thought. 
> 
> Love you all! <333
> 
>  
> 
> **Tumblr:**   
>  [NeonViolet](https://Pinkskam.tumblr.com/)


End file.
